


Untitled (7)

by stcrmpilot



Series: Untitled Ficlets [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, but it's softe i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stcrmpilot/pseuds/stcrmpilot
Summary: It would've been easier if he'd died in the war.





	Untitled (7)

**Author's Note:**

> Done from a prompt for an anon on Tumblr!

It would've been easier if he'd died in the war. 

Every once in a while, once in a blue moon—once every seven days or so, if he were honest with himself—he found his thoughts slipping back towards that fact. It haunted him. He tried, he did try, not to let it consume him. He tried not to look back on it with the dull, hollow longing that had clung to him for so long, only just starting to relinquish its hold, bit by agonizing bit. But it was a simple, catchy thought, and its perverse appeal lay in its truth: it would've been easier, if he'd died on Gallifrey. On Satellite Five. Under the Thames, or in Manhattan, or on the  _ Valiant _ . It would've been so much easier. 

Now, the Doctor fancied himself as a generally optimistic person, but he was not one to humour lighthearted delusions. He knew a pattern when he saw one. He knew his future held suffering enough for a dozen more lifetimes, and every once in a while, on days like this, his entire being balked from that knowledge. Thinking of the centuries to come filled him with a deep, paralyzing dread. ( _ Centuries. _ He laughed at himself. A week of peace was too much to hope for, these days.) 

He felt drawn to the alternative, had for a long, long time, and it never ceased to scare him. He didn't want to die—it would just be so  _ easy…  _

"Spaceman?"

He looked up to see Donna peering into his room. At his acknowledgment, she wandered up to the bed, looking down at him with mild curiosity. 

"Didn't think you'd be in here," she remarked. "You alright? The food's waiting, y'know."

He glanced down, drew himself up and nodded. "Yeah, fine," he said. He hesitated. "Not really hungry, though."

A light frown creased her brow, and she carefully sat beside him. "Are you sure you're okay?" she murmured. "You look… tired."

He gave a weak laugh. "I am tired, Donna," he said shakily. 

He only had a second to regret speaking his mind, because Donna looked at him with such soft sympathy, and took his hand in both of hers, and he ached to tell her everything. He didn’t want to be alone with it anymore. 

But that, quite frankly, scared him more than his thoughts, and he sniffed and glanced away from her. “Go on, get something to eat before it cools,” he told her. “I’ll be along.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tilt her head. 

“I won’t leave you here, Doctor,” she said patiently. “So either come have a bit of supper or let me go grab a book.”

A tiny smile played across the Doctor’s lips, and suddenly the painful weight in his chest didn’t seem quite so heavy. “Okay,” he mumbled. 

Smiling right back, Donna stood in front of him and helped him to his feet, then wrapped him in a tight hug that he couldn’t quite return well enough. When she pulled back, the pride in her eyes made his hearts clench. 

“I’d rather sleep,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly prickling with tears. 

“Yeah, I know,” she said quietly. There was no pity in her tone. “But since when do you take the easy way out?”

He hesitated for a long moment, warring with himself, then broke into a proper, warm smile. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, and hand in hand they left. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [stcrmpilot.tumblr.com](https://stcrmpilot.tumblr.com)!


End file.
